Sing Street Page #3

You appear troubled, my young

friend.

Conor nods his head.

BRENDAN:

Sit. Share your woes.

Conor sits on the edge of his brother’s bed.

(CONTINUED)

12.

BRENDAN:

You start tomorrow?

Conor nods his head.

BRENDAN:

You’ll be fine. You just have to

find a way of distracting the thugs

from noticing you.

CONOR:

How do I do that?

BRENDAN:

How would I know?

CONOR:

I feel like I’m going to prison.

BRENDAN:

You are. In a way. All institutions

are prisons. You do realize that

this is just part of the bigger

picture? This school move?

CONOR:

How do you mean?

BRENDAN:

I’m pretty sure they’re splitting

up. I hear them rowing, in the

middle of the night.

CONOR:

Do you? Why aren’t you asleep?

Brendan just laughs at this, as if sleep would be ridiculous.

BRENDAN:

There’ll be plenty of time for

that.

He takes another drag, and then instinctively goes to pass it

to Conor. But then realizes, pulling it back.

BRENDAN:

Oh, no, you’re tiny.

He stands up, taking the record that has been playing

quietly. Replaces it carefully, and searches for something

else.

BRENDAN:

...and this is just the start of a

process. They start moving you

around. Soon the electricity will

be cut off. The bailiff will come.

The house will be sold.

(MORE)

(CONTINUED)

13.

The cave is under threat, brother.

From monsters.

Conor is genuinely concerned.

CONOR:

What monsters?

Brendan finds a record that is pertinent, opening it, and

carefully rubbing his sleeve off the vinyl.

BRENDAN:

Oh, just the three-headed monster

of Fear, Infidelity, Ego,

Materialism.

CONOR:

That’s a four-headed monster.

BRENDAN:

The things that are destroying

their marriage. And now YOU’RE

being tested. This is YOUR time. I

had my time.

CONOR:

And what happened?

BRENDAN:

(beat, a thousand thoughts

in a blink of an eye)

This is a great chance for you. To

break that cycle of sh*t. That

school would have turned you into a

doctor, or a lawyer. “Must make

money, must make money”.

Conor listens attentively, if a little confused.

BRENDAN:

(off his look of

confusion)

That was a robot I just did there.

Who wants to be a robot? Except

R2D2? Who knows what this new

prison will do for you, my little

friend!

(beat)

You’re on a hero’s journey. How are

you going to fare?

He puts on the record he’s been looking for. The needle meets

the vinyl with a comforting crunch. A loud, heavy metal song

from the late seventies.

The room rocks. Brendan smiles at his younger brother, “you

feeling me??”

(CONTINUED)

14.

Hard cut.

EXT. SYNGE STREET SCHOOL - MORNING

Song playing loud.

Monday morning. Almost in answer to his brother’s question,

Conor walks into the gate of the school. Numerous kids have

gathered in packs. Conor has to walk a gauntlet of new faces.

Heads turn towards the newcomer. There is something of a

stranger arriving at a new town in a Western. But this is no

Western, and the stomping song tells us so. Conor’s three-

quarter length smart coat and long curly hair draws laughs.

He is also carrying a soft, brown leather satchel, which

doesn’t help.

Kids smoke in circles. Kids spit on the ground.

Further into the walk, a fight is just breaking out, and a

small circle is gathering. Two boys beat it out. Bloody noses

and fists. Conor speeds up as he passes. He notices that

above them, at a second story window, a BROTHER (50s), in

black suit and white collar, is watching the fight down

below. He does nothing about it.

One KID has a dead RAT skewered on the end of a stick. He

chases other kids around with it. He finally throws it at

Conor. It hits him on the side of the head. Others laugh.

The song ends as he enters the school. The back of his coat

is covered in spit.

INT. CLASSROOM - DAY

Conor sits in a large, drafty classroom, looking around. The

windows rattle in the wind. Worn, wooden floorboards

underfoot. The desks are mismatched. Two kids per desk. This

is a class of about 35 kids.

BROTHER BARNABAS (70), in a black gown and white collar,

writes Latin on the blackboard.

Even with his hearing aid, he can’t hear kids chatting,

laughing and fighting when his back is turned.

Conor sits in the middle, amazed. To his left, at the back of

class, a boy smokes a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the

sash window beside him.

To his right, two BOYS hold down another, as a fourth farts

in his mouth, closing it, and making him swallow.

Another kid is getting an Indian ink tattoo: IRA, on his

hand.

(CONTINUED)

15.

At the blackboard, Brother Barnabas takes a surreptitious

swig from a hip flask, returning it under his gown. This old

guy should have been put out to pasture a long time ago.

The door swings open, and the HEADMASTER enters silently, on

his morning rounds. The class stands up. Silence. He is the

same Brother we saw watching the fight on the way in.

CLASS:

(as one)

Good morning Brother Baxter.

Brother Baxter surveys the room, landing on the blackboard.

BROTHER BAXTER:

It’s French, brother Barnabas.

BROTHER BARNABAS

Hah?

BROTHER BAXTER:

You’re teaching French. Not Latin.

Brother Barnabas looks at the board, seeing that he is

teaching Latin.

BROTHER BARNABAS

Oh. How modern.

Brother Baxter speaks in a tough, no nonsense Dublin accent.

His bushy moustache suggests something of a military man.

BROTHER BAXTER:

Mind you, I’d be surprised if any

of ye even knew where France is,

not to mind speaking the language.

Silence. Conor, who thinks this is an actual question,

raises a hand.

BROTHER BAXTER:

Oh. Go on.

CONOR:

On the continent. Above Spain.

BROTHER BAXTER:

My my. And how do you know that?

CONOR:

My parents took us there. One

summer. In the car.

Other kids laugh, jealously.

BROTHER BAXTER:

You’ll be the new lad then, from

the Jesuits.

(CONTINUED)

16.

CONOR:

Yes.

BROTHER BAXTER:

Yes “Brother”. What’s your name.

CONOR:

Conor Lawlor.

Laughter. Conor looks around, all eyes on him. Brother Baxter

is impressed.

BROTHER BAXTER:

Shut up! You could all take a leaf

out of his book. Look at a map once

in a while. Right Conor. Morning

prayers are at a quarter to nine.

Little break is ten minutes. At 11

o'clock. Big break is 45 minutes at

1 o’clock. The canteen is located

below the P.E. Hall. They serve

chips and bars. The lads will show

you the ropes. Welcome.

CONOR:

Thank you.

BROTHER BAXTER:

As you were!

He turns to go. But as he does, he sees Conor’s feet under

his desk. He pauses. Conor is wearing brown leather brogues.

Everyone else is wearing black shoes.

BROTHER BAXTER:

We have a strict, black shoe policy

here, Mr. Lawlor. Your parents

should have read it in the

introductory rule book. Page 142.

We’ll let it go today, but from

tomorrow on...

He goes to exit again.

CONOR:

I don’t have black shoes, Sir.

Brother Baxter pauses at the door. The class goes silent. BB

is not used to being questioned like this.

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